


So Maybe The Kitsch Was Worth It

by VampAmber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorkable, Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Dean Winchester, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Blushing, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Complete, Crafts, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, First Meetings, Fluff, Grumpy Dean Winchester, Interrupting Sam Winchester, Knitter Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pointless, Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet, Sign Language, Sorry Not Sorry, Sort Of, kitschy, way too much blushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampAmber/pseuds/VampAmber
Summary: Emotionally manipulated into making kitschy paintings on wood and selling them at a craft fair by his brother and sister-in-law (they cheated, though, by using his adorable 4 year old niece to convince him), Dean sacrificed pretty much an entire Saturday to sit in a stupid booth with the stupid pictures that thankfully didn't take long to make. Meeting the knitter across the aisle from him with the voice of sex and blue eyes of impossibleness suddenly made the afternoon seem not so wasted after all, though. Plus, kitsch totally sells at these places, so money and a hottie to covertlystare atdrool oversketch? Definitely worth it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 128





	So Maybe The Kitsch Was Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may have discovered an absolutely wonderful new trick. I made myself a Jar O' Plot Bunnies, filled with slips of paper with words, phrases, and other kinds of mini-prompt ideas written on them, then I drew a random one, wrote it on my left hand with a Sharpie (that's the only place I can write notes that I actually remember to look at), and didn't wash it off until I started writing it. And I still can't believe that it actually worked! YAYS! The one I drew for this one was a setting one, "Craft Show," and it only took me a day or so to bang this sucker out. Everybody, fingers crossed that this keeps working. Cuz I would fucking **love** to write more.
> 
> Oh yeah, and the next slip I pulled out was "Dentist," and I'm already having ideas for it. ^_^ Gonna make sure it's nothing too close to [Losing A Few Teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11111508), so no worries. Gonna be cute af, though, that's for sure.
> 
> Love you guys. You put up with my dumb author's notes (otherwise you wouldn't be reading of this love), and you give me kudos, and write me such wonderful comments (which I literally _still_ blush about when I read them), and that's the conditional part of the love, but I still love you despite.
> 
> I should probably get some of that sleep stuff soon........

Painting had always been one of Dean’s favorite hobbies. There was nothing more soothing than coming home after a long, tiring day of work, than to pick up a paintbrush and just… create. He especially loved painting animals and wildlife. Even without making them cartoonish, he thought that you could read a lot of emotions and personality in them, given just the right brushstrokes. He loved pretty much every moment of the process, even washing out the brushes at the end of the day.

This part, though, he didn’t like at all. He once again crinkled his nose in disgust as he set up his booth at the local craft fair. This, this was all Eileen’s fault, both for suggesting it in the first place, and for getting his younger brother/her husband Sam into actually going through with it. He kinda hated them both right now, even if they did make really cute nieces and nephews for him every so often.

It all started with Eileen’s birthday party three months ago. Dean knew how much she adored his paintings, so he’d decided to make one for her as a present. Her and Sam already had a couple canvases of his hanging in their house, though, so he figured he’d try something different this time. He’d gotten one of those wooden plank things, the ones that are supposed to look like old wood found in the forest and not at Michael’s in the craft section, and he’d painted a happy little woodland scene, complete with a moose in the background (might as well include Sammy in the picture somewhere, right?). She’d loved it, of course, and he’d thought that had been the end of it. But then all her friends oohed and ahhed over it, begging her to tell them where she got it so that they could buy a bunch of them, as well. That was when the idea for him getting a booth at the craft show that was held the second weekend of every other month at the rec center downtown popped into her head. He'd tried to resist, but they’d even got their oldest daughter into it, with her puppy dog eyes that were already on par with her father’s, even though she was only four and a half. _“Pretty please, uncle Dean? They’re so pretty, so everybody should have some.”_ Yeah, there had been no way he could resist after that level of emotional manipulation.

So here he was, at a table in the gymnasium, right under one of the basketball hoops, trying to make his kitschy wood look extra buyable. _Pretty please?_ Well, here goes nothing (except an entire Saturday afternoon wasted). At least he’d thought enough to bring his sketchpad to help ease the boredom. He hadn’t needed reference pictures for most animals since he was still in high school, so he was going to draw up a rough draft of his next full sized, not-on-kitschy-wood painting. He already had a spot in his basement/painting studio that it would look absolutely awesome in.

By the time people started to come in and wander around the booths, he was in full artist mode. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that people were browsing his stuff, but he only glanced up when actually spoken to. He’d made three sales in just the first fifteen minutes, only one of them being an oohing and ahhing friend of Eileen’s. As much as he hated to admit it, the kitsch sold, and sold well.

Dean mentally grumbled his way through four more sales, before the large coffee he’d drank with two donuts in place of a healthy breakfast informed his bladder that a urinal would be required shortly. He glanced around, frowning at how busy the place had been getting while he’d been ignoring it in favor of sketching. It wasn’t some huge city like New York or LA, where his stuff would be stolen if he looked away for more than five seconds, but he really didn’t feel comfortable leaving it completely unguarded for the few minutes a bathroom break would take. He let out a frustrated sigh as he noticed that most of the other booths had at least two people at them. Damn, should’ve thought of that before he told Sammy that he wouldn’t need him again until it was time to take the booth back down again at the end of the show. There was no way he could hold it in for another few hours.

Finally bothering to check out his neighbors, Dean noticed one other guy who was there by himself, judging by the fact that he only had the one chair. He was across and one down from his own booth, and he was selling stuff that looked knitted or crocheted. The dark blue sweater actually looked really comfy, but bathroom break was the only thing that mattered at the moment. Keeping his fingers crossed that the guy was nice enough to be willing to watch his stuff while he was gone, he walked over.

That dark blue sweater definitely needed to be going home with him, Dean decided once saw it up close, and a heartbeat later he kinda wanted to bring its creator along with it. Blue was all that he saw when the guy first looked up. Since when did they make blue that… blue? After that, messy dark hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a pretty nice looking body from what showed under the guy’s shirt, all turned into a (very hot) person. “Can I help you? Anything in particular catch your eye?” The guy asked in a gravelly voice, and Dean was smitten.

A few seconds past the normal time length that it should’ve taken for a person to reply, Dean managed to croak out, “My booth?”

The knitter cocked his head to the side in confusion, and asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Dean laughed, embarrassed but hopefully not looking it. “My, uhh, my booth. Over there.” Dean pointed, tripping over his own words because dayum this guy was sexy. “I was hoping you could maybe watch it for me? I gotta pee like nobody’s business, and…” Dean quickly stopped when he realized he was oversharing. He was usually smooth with the guys and ladies, but there was something about this one, something that made Dean feel like a teenager in both a bad and a good kind of way. “So yeah, could you watch it for me for a few minutes?”

The dark haired hottie chuckled, which only made Dean crush on him even harder. “Of course I can,” he replied, then held out his hand. “I’m Castiel, but you can call me Cas,” he said as they shook.

“I’m Dean, and thanks so much for watching it,” Dean said, right before his bladder gave him another, slightly more urgent request. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes, and I wanna buy that sweater.” When Cas nodded, Dean went off in the general direction of where the bathrooms were supposed to be.

A few minutes, and two cups of coffee from the food venders in hand, later, Dean walked up to Cas’ booth, feeling a fair bit better, and hopefully nowhere near as awkward. “Didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I grabbed a bit of everything,” he explained as he held one of the cups out to Cas. “Or if you even wanted coffee, for that matter. If not, I can drink it myself.” Once again, feeling all of sixteen, Dean actually had to stop himself from babbling. Did this guy somehow manage to get hotter while he was gone?

Cas chuckled again, before accepting the coffee and the handful of different types of creamer and sugar/sugar substitutes. “Thanks, I’d love a cup,” he said, smiling, as he opened the lid and started pouring damn near everything in. “There was an older couple looking at your stuff not too long after you left, and I told them you’d be back soon.” He smiled again, and Dean started to (agnostically) pray that the guy wasn’t straight or attached or something, because that would just be way too unfair. And if his gaze wandered to Cas’ ringless left hand, could you really blame him?

“Thanks again,” Dean said, air toasting Cas with his coffee cup as he walked back over to his table. The older couple from earlier showed up not too long after, and then Dean was busy solid for at least ten minutes, because apparently word had spread. Kitsch sold really, really well at this place, it would seem.

When Dean, now a fair bit richer than yesterday, finally had the chance to breathe, he grabbed his sketchpad again. Turning to a blank page, he started to sketch Cas. Not in some creepy stalker way or anything, he just thought the guy was worth drawing. The fact that this gave him the excuse to covertly glance over at the other man’s table often was a just a happy coincidence. Yep. Coincidence.

Dean was back in his artist zone, having reached a spot in the drawing that didn’t need constant observation of the attractive subject, when he was startled by a cough. Remembering where he was and why he was there, he looked up to greet the potential customer. Instead of starting his sales pitch, worthy of a fast food employee from saying the same things over and over, he almost dropped his sketchpad when it turned out to be Cas instead. He slammed the pad shut at the speed of sound, covering up the sonic boom of embarrassment with a little chuckle. Thankfully, he’d been holding it upright, so Cas most likely hadn’t seen what, or better who, he’d been drawing.

“Since you got the coffee earlier, I bought you an apple turnover from the baked goods booth at the end of our row,” Cas explained, holding out what looked, and smelled, like Heaven. “Not the most healthy of lunches, but definitely the easiest to eat while working at a booth.” He smiled again, bigger this time, and Dean wanted to eat him more than the turnover.

Shoving the incriminating sketchpad under one of the boxes he’d brought the painted wood signs in, he grabbed the Styrofoam plate holding the turnover. “If this tastes anywhere near as good as it smells, I’m in love already,” Dean muttered, already drooling as the pastry got closer to his mouth and stomach. “Thanks a bunch Cas, I love apple turnovers, and pies, and pretty much anything this delicious.”

“No problem,” Cas said, before heading quickly back to his own booth, probably in a hurry to eat his own baked treat.

Apple turnover all but inhaled, it tasted that freaking good, and a reminder note in front of him to head over to that booth before he left to buy everything they had, Dean went back to his not-stalkery-at-all drawing. He felt like a child every time he snuck a glance over at Cas, but his luck held and he never got caught, mostly since the guy’s booth was probably the most popular one at the whole craft fair, at least from what little Dean had seen of the rest of the place. He was putting on the last few finishing touches of the portrait in between customers of his own, and hadn’t realized how much time had passed until his concentration was broken once again by a cough. Looking up excitedly, hoping it was Cas again, he groaned in disappointment when it was only Sam.

“What? You were the one who didn’t want to be here, so you shouldn’t be grumpy that it’s almost over,” Sam complained as he started to take down the booth. “Looks like you did a really good job, though,” he said, packing up the few pieces that were left. He hefted up the mostly empty boxes, heading towards the parking lot. “You get the last few bits, and I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean responded, even though his attention was now on Cas, who was busy himself with probably his last customer of the day. He’d wanted to say goodbye, but he didn’t want to interrupt the sale. It looked like the lady was a big spender, already holding a couple pieces of knitted baby clothing and multiple pairs of gloves. He concentrated on shoving the last few things that Sam hadn’t grabbed into a box, the relatively full cashbox on top, and had the table, which the rec center had provided, completely empty in only a minute or two. When he turned to walk out, his sketchpad slipped to the floor. It fell with the portrait of Cas showing itself to the world, and Dean sighed in annoyance as he reached down to grab it.

Once again Dean was startled, only by a hand this time. Cas’ hand. The same Cas whose lovingly drawn portrait was staring up at them. “Umm…” Dean had absolutely no clue what you were supposed to do in a situation like this, though his instincts told him to grab the pad and run for it.

“That’s actually a really good likeness of me,” Cas said softly, handing over the sketchpad when they both stood back up.

“Uhh, thanks,” Dean replied, probably blushing like mad crazy by now.

“You almost forgot your sweater,” Cas said, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh yeah, I did say I wanted to buy it, didn’t I?” Dean laughed nervously. Consumerism should cover up the awkwardness quite nicely. “How much do I owe you?” Cas told him the price, and Dean handed him a couple bills from his earnings today. Thank you, capitalism.

Cas went over to his booth and scribbled a receipt on a piece of paper, before grabbing a bag stuffed to the brim with dark blue sweater. “Here you go,” Cas said with another smile, handing the bag over.

“Thanks,” Dean said, smiling himself now, even though he was still anxious over that damn picture. He grabbed the receipt from Cas’ other hand, and was about to head out to lick his metaphorical embarrassment wounds in peace when Cas grabbed his sleeve, pointing at the piece of paper in his hands.

“And, umm… I thought maybe you’d want this, too?” Cas asked, turning shades of red that Dean hadn’t known existed outside of a tube of paint.

Dean finally bothered to look at the receipt. Only it wasn’t a receipt, just a phone number. Ohhh… “Your number?” He finally said, stating the obvious.

Cas nodded. “I thought maybe we could get some coffee sometime?”

“Like a date?”

Cas nodded again.

“Damn straight I wanna go out on a date with you,” Dean said, a little too loudly. Everyone turned to look at them, causing both men to turn into bright red neon lights of embarrassment. They both giggled and looked away, trying to avoid any further attention. “I’ll call you tonight,” Dean said as soon as it seemed they weren’t the craft fair soap opera anymore.

“That’d be great,” Cas said, before flashing Dean a smile that almost made the blue eyes not seem as adorably hot. Almost.

“As fun as it is to watch my older brother flirt like an idiot, the car is waiting outside,” Sam interrupted, sounding impatient.

“Damn it, Sam,” Dean muttered under his breath. “But yeah, see you tonight,” he said to Cas, not muttering under his breath.

Cas chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you tonight, Dean.” They awkwardly waved before Dean was finally dragged away by his brother.

Once they were outside, shoving the remaining stuff in the back of Sam’s van, Dean looked at his brother with a death glare. “Don’t you say a word,” he said, pointing at Eileen waiting in the passenger seat.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, whatever you say.”

Dean nodded, glad that he wouldn’t be teased the entire ride home. He only realized his mistake when Sam turned to Eileen. ‘Dean’s new boyfriend is adorable,’ he signed.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said from the backseat, loud enough for Sam to hear. His brother only chuckled in response, and continued to gossip with his wife about Cas via his hands, not _saying_ a single word. “Son of a bitch.”


End file.
